


Let me Listen

by kicknames



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, BAMF Michelle Jones, BAMF Peter Parker, Canon Divergence - Spider-Man: Far From Home, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Feels, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Hurt Peter Parker, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Michelle Jones-centric, Minor Betty Brant/Ned Leeds, POV Michelle Jones, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Michelle Jones, Slow Burn, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Whump, spoilers for pretty much the whole mcu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kicknames/pseuds/kicknames
Summary: (Insert summary of Far From Home)Now imagine that, just from MJ's POV and she finds out a lot earlier.That's all I can say, really, you all know the plot. Be ready for lots of whump, emotional turmoil, and Peter and MJ being adorable. Enjoy!
Relationships: Betty Brant/Ned Leeds, Happy Hogan & Michelle Jones, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark mentioned, Quentin Beck & Peter Parker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, hey guys! Been a while! This story came together real slowly, started as a couple of one shots and it turned into a full blown story. I've missed writing and posting stuff for y'all to read, hopefully this one gets as good a response as my other stories, please feel free to let me know your honest thoughts!

_Venice really is an incredible place,_ MJ thought to herself. And not because of the quaint little buildings or the romantic gondola rides—she was interested in the legends.

In the weeks proceeding this trip, MJ spent hours digging up local legends and horror stories about each place they were scheduled to visit. Venice had a shocking number of tales, no way she could see them all in the few days they were here, but one or two seemed feasible. The one that really caught her attention was the allegedly haunted Ca’Dario, or “The House of No Return.” About a dozen previous owners over the past few hundred years came to a tragic demise in that very house. A few too many to be a coincidence.

MJ was on her way there now, to investigate. I mean really, how could she hear a story like that and _not_ be curious? It was a bit tricky sneaking out of the hotel without being spotted, but she managed, and now she was wandering down one of the city’s thousand canals. It was dark, obviously; the best time to go exploring. All the tourists had pretty much cleared out, and the Italians had mostly gone to bed so the only sound was the water lapping rhythmically against the low brick walls. Really added to the ominous, ghostly vibe MJ loved.

All that was ruined, of course, by the dull hum of a motorboat. It was coming from somewhere in front of her, probably from the canal perpendicular to the one she was walking now.

 _Seriously, who even goes boating this late at night?_ She waited and stared down the water so she could shoot a glare at whoever passed by—probably tourists—but then she heard them speak.

A deep voice, definitely an American accent, said something indistinguishable, which was followed by a brief reply. This voice was higher, less certain. She wished she could’ve heard what they were saying; their voices carried well with nothing but water to block their path, but they were still a good ways away. A moment of silence followed, then the first man said something she remembered reading in one of Shakespeare’s plays: “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

Suddenly she found that she wasn’t quite as irritated with these tourists anymore.

They passed in front of her then, just a couple of dark blobs against an even bigger dark blob. One of them was super tall, or maybe he was standing? It was hard to tell from this distance.

“Stark said you wouldn’t get that because it’s not a Star Wars reference,” the man continued.

“Star Wars?” MJ frowned. “Wait, _Stark?”_

She hurried forward and hid herself behind the wall, peeking out just enough to get a clearer look. A big man sitting on the right wearing a leather jacket. His skin was dark, and she thought he was bald, though she couldn’t be sure at this distance. And standing next to him…

“No way,” she muttered, mouth slightly ajar. Right there, not twenty feet in front of her, stood the one and only Spider Man. The red and blue suit was unmistakable, even in the darkness.

Her mind was reeling. What could this mean? She’d had her suspicions about Peter being Spider Man since Washington D.C. when he’d conveniently shown up, hundreds of miles from Queens, just in time to save their class from plummeting to their deaths. And all those times he disappeared from class with zero explanation. And that newly acquired look in his eyes since the blip, like he’d seen things MJ herself couldn’t imagine. And now, what, Spider Man is in Italy the same time as their class trip?

“Oh my God, okay, 98% sure now. 98.” She muttered to herself, watching dazedly as the boat drifted further and further away.

But…she needed to see him with her own eyes. Her stubborn brain wouldn’t stop pointing out that she couldn’t be absolutely certain this was Peter. There were other explanations, she supposed. Perhaps this wasn’t really Spider Man, just a gimmicky Italian copycat. Or maybe it really was a coincidence that Spider Man was in D.C. that day. She needed proof, and she needed it now.

She raced after the boat. It was insanely difficult to keep up with, as the canal wasn’t conveniently outlined with a sidewalk. She had to sprint down alleys and cross the nearest bridge. It was definitely a workout, especially considering she was on foot and they in a motorboat, but luckily they weren’t travelling too far. She’d probably run a quarter mile or so before the boat slowed and they pulled over to the side opposite of MJ. Luckily, there was a bridge spanning the distance just a few yards back, so she doubled back and crossed quickly as possible without being spotted. She ducked behind the nearest building and poked her head around the corner. The two men stepped out onto dry land and walked inside a shady building that might’ve been abandoned for a hundred years.

The moment she knew she wouldn’t be seen, she darted out and followed in a full out sprint. She didn’t want to risk losing them once they got inside.

Turns out, she had nothing to worry about. Just a short, damp alley with absolutely no security. She barely reached it in time to see Spider Man’s red boot turn the corner.

Doubt started to creep into her thoughts; what would Spider Man possibly be doing here? And who was that other random guy? If these guys were legit, why no security? She’d seen the boat, clearly the guy had money, so why not use it to build a top-secret hideout or something?

She almost gave herself away right then and there. Because she was so lost in thought she would’ve kept right on walking past the door Spider Man walked through, then everyone would have seen her. Or at least someone would have. But then she heard the first man speak again, which snapped her from reverie and back to reality.

“—Maria Hill,” he was saying.

 _Maria Hill,_ MJ thought. _Maria Hill, I know that name…_

“That is Dimitri,” He continued, with no regard for MJ or the fact that she was still on Maria Hill.

“And this,” pause for dramatic effect, “Is Mr. Beck.”

A small voice followed; a familiar, far younger voice. “Mysterio?”

MJ’s brain just about burst. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from making a sound. Gravity was messing with her; she had to fall against the wall just to keep upright. The ringing in her ears prevented her from hearing the altercation.

 _I knew it,_ she thought numbly. _I_ knew _it!_

Her brain sifted through the jumble of thoughts, trying to make sense of it all. As she did, her body returned to its normal functioning capabilities. So, Peter Parker was Spider Man all along, as she suspected. _He_ was the one who saved her friends in D.C., _he_ was the one who beat up car thieves and helped old ladies cross the street on a regular basis, _he_ was the one in front of her now, probably being recruited for some dangerous superhuman mission.

With that, she tried to attend to the conversation at hand, but only half of her was really listening. The other half of her was remembering those videos she’d seen of Spider Man lifting busses and stopping trains with nothing but his bare hands. How the hell did _Peter Parker_ —a nerdy sixteen-year-old high schooler—get that kind of power? How much was he capable of?

Those kinds of answers couldn’t be attained right now, she knew, so she forced herself to listen to the conversation unfolding in front of her.

“…multiple realities, Peter. This is Earth, dimension 616, I’m from Earth 833.”

Which of course sent Michelle’s brain spiraling into a whole new chasm of questions. Multiple _dimensions?_ That’s just a theory! And one of the more far-fetched ones, in MJ’s opinion. How did Mysterio get to this reality? How did he even know about it?

MJ’s skepticism was met with nothing but giddy curiosity by Peter. Immediately, he spouted off question after question, new thoughts popping into his head faster than MJ could take a breath. He cut off abruptly—why, MJ wasn’t sure—and started apologizing.

“Sorry! It’s really cool.” Followed by an awkward chuckle.

“Don’t ever apologize for being the smartest one in the room.” Said another voice, probably Mysterio. Or whatever the guy’s name was, Beck?

“Anyway,” said a woman, and the tone shifted dramatically. A weird, soft glow emanated from the room, maybe from a computer or something, and Beck started to speak.

He told a chilling story about the so-called Elementals, about their power and how they were near impossible to stop. He got quiet when he spoke of his family, and a stab of empathy went through MJ. She wasn’t sure how she liked the guy so far, but no one should go through the pain of watching their family die. Then to watch your planet destroyed when you could do nothing to stop it.

No one elected to respond, except for Peter who came out with a soft “Sorry,” the voice of someone who knew what it meant to lose family.

They spoke more about the Elementals and how they showed up in this dimension. Most of them were dead, from the sound of it, but MJ was seized with fear when she heard them ask Peter to come with them and destroy the last one—Fire.

“I’m sorry, did you say Prague?” Peter asked after a second of processing. She listened to him protest and argue that he wasn’t really the best person for the job, and while she certainly didn’t want him to go off and fight some fire monster, some part of her knew that he was stronger than he was able to admit. He could do this, he just didn’t know it.

Then the man from the boat said something that took MJ several moments to understand: “Bitch, please, you’ve been to space!”

“I know, but that was an accident, sir…”

He continued arguing against himself while MJ mulled over the words. _You’ve been to space?_ Maybe he was kidding or being sarcastic? But no, the way Peter jumped in; not to refute it, but to downplay it. How the hell had Peter been to space?

She crept towards the door opening, hoping to catch a glimpse of the happenings.

A gun cocked. “Hey, you behind that wall!” Came a grisly voice. All other conversation abruptly cut off. “Come out with your hands up. _Now_!”


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Hands up!”_ Dimitri barked, as MJ’s arms began to curl inward. She looked terrified, but she complied. It got her attention off the gun and she cast her gaze around the room, trying to absorb as much information as possible. He jutted the gun right into her face, effectively capturing her attention once again.

Peter’s heart stopped, as it almost always did when he saw MJ. But this time it wasn’t because of a crush, it was because of the gigantic gun being pointed at her face.

“MJ,” he muttered, so quiet no one heard.

“Who the hell—?”

“What’s going on?”

“How did she…?”

“ _Wait!”_ Peter’s voice cut through the cacophony. He shoved his way past Fury and Hill, around Beck and Dimitri and the security guards. He forced the gun down and held placating hands out to MJ and the incensed group. “Stop, it’s okay! I know her! It’s okay!”

“You _know_ her?” Fury eyed her suspiciously, one hand on the gun at his waist. “Who is she? Why is she here?”

“She’s…she…” He was at a loss of words for a moment. One look at Fury’s distrustful gaze was enough to sober him up. “This is MJ. She’s in my class.”

“Alright, well what’s she _doing_ here?” Fury demanded, in no way pacified.

“I, um…” he turned to MJ, whose hands were still trembling. His heart tightened painfully, but he couldn’t comfort her now. These guys looked a little too trigger-happy; if they didn’t get answers soon, he didn’t know what might happen.

“MJ, what _are_ you doing here?” He asked in the gentlest voice possible.

“I…I…” Her voice shook so much he barely understood that much. Her eyed kept darting around the room at all the explosives and holograms and super people ready to kill her. He stepped a little closer, hoping a familiar face would help calm her down enough to explain. It seemed to work; her eyes darted up to his and her shoulders relaxed minutely.

She took a deep breath. “I saw you on the boat earlier,” she said mostly to Peter. “I heard someone say something about Stark, then I saw that it was _you,_ and I got curious. I’m sorry I followed you, I just…”

“It’s okay,” Peter said, stepping even closer in reassurance. “But how did you know it was me? I was wearing my…shit, my mask!”

Peter recoiled like she’d burned him. He almost turned around, covered his face to keep her from seeing, but of course it was much too late for that. There was no denying it at this point.

She looked like she might’ve smiled if not for the tension of the situation. “It’s okay,” she said, now the one reassuring him. “I had my suspicions, even before.”

“You did?” He said in utter bewilderment “How?”

“Um…I mean, Washington? Spider Man just happens to appear the same time you mysteriously vanish?”

“That could’ve been a coincidence,” the argument sounded weak even to him.

“True, but combined with everything else…”

“Everything else?” He demanded.

“Like, you randomly disappear all the time for no reason.”

“Not ‘for no reason—’”

“And the whole Stark internship thing?”

“Hey, that could have been legit.”

“And the fact that you definitely got on the bus with us before the blip, but I don’t remember you getting off.”

“Well—”

“If you two are quite finished,” Fury interrupted, striding forward and crossing his arms tightly. They could see the veins bulging on his forehead. “I’m sure we’d all like a real explanation.”

MJ looked at the ground in embarrassment. She stepped around Peter to stand nose to nose with Nick Fury, which was seriously brave of her.

“I’m sorry,” she began. Good start. “I suspected Peter might be Spider Man for a long time, so when I saw you two on the boat, I decided to follow and get some proof. I shouldn’t have done that and I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but please believe I’ll never share what I heard or saw here.”

He barked a laugh. “Why should we believe you? All we know about you is,” he kept count on his fingers, “You eavesdropped on a confidential world-threatening briefing. You now know the identities of not one but _two_ of our finest assets, not to mention the location of our base—”

“Yeah, about that, you might want to consider a more secure hideout. Or invest in some security cameras or something.”

“MJ…” Peter sighed and pinched his nose.

But Fury just stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she had the guts to talk back to him. The scared, trembling girl from two minutes ago was gone, replaced with this stubborn, sarcastic teen.

 _Oh God, not another one,_ Fury thought. A small part of him was impressed, though.

“Look, Mr. Fury, I know how this looks, but we can trust her. She’s not going to tell anyone what she heard, okay? I can vouch for her.” Peter said.

He stared between the two insufferable teens. This is why he never had kids of his own. “Well, suppose I just shoot her? I’d sleep better at night knowing there’s one less loose end to worry about.”

“Mr. Fury…”

“Fine.” He turned aside, angry and a little embarrassed, not that he’d ever admit it. “I don’t want to see you around here anymore, understand? And if I hear you’ve breathed a word of this to anyone, you can be sure—”

“Thank you, Mr. Fury!” Peter interjected, taking MJ by the shoulders and guiding her away quickly.

“Bye kid,” said Beck, voice tinged with laughter.

“Bye, Mysterio! Or Mr. Beck, Quentin, whatever! Good luck!” He called over his shoulder, not stopping his rapid pace until they were outside.

He turned to look at her, full of so many questions he didn’t know where to begin. They were accompanied shortly by Dimitri, so any questions died in his mouth.

He didn’t say anything, just climbed into the boat and jerked his head at the other two to get in. Peter pulled his mask over his head and climbed in next to MJ. It was a short ride, though it felt like eons. Peter swore the water was pushing them backwards, out to open water. Eventually though, their shoddy hotel came into view, and Peter thought he’d never seen such a welcome sight.

“All this time, I was right,” MJ whispered, staring at Peter like he’d sprouted wings.

“Yes, MJ, you’re very smart,” he said wearily. She’d been repeating the same thing since they’d gotten back to the hotel.

Currently, the two of them were sitting cross-legged on the floor of MJ’s room. After checking on Ned (sound asleep but totally fine), Peter changed out of his suit and met her in her room which ordinarily would have made him blush. This wasn’t a romantic visit though, unfortunately; they both had a lot to discuss.

“So…I was right. You’re Spider Man.” Peter inhaled sharply through his nose, about two seconds from flipping out.

“How long?” She asked quickly.

“Um…” his frustration evaporated. “I guess it started a couple years ago.”

“What do you mean, ‘it’ started?” She scooted closer, excited despite herself. She’d heard their classmates ogling over the great Spider Man for years. Turns out, she’s not above it as she thought. “You mean your powers?”

“Powers,” he scoffed and blushed, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I’d say ‘powers,’ more like ‘enhancements’ or something.”

“Enhancements?” She asked, withholding a laugh.

“Shut up,” he pulled a knee to his chest self-consciously.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she said. “What exactly are your po—sorry, your abilities? What can you do?”

He blushed deeper. “I don’t, uh…well, I guess I’m stronger. Now.”

“How strong?”

“I don’t know exactly,” he said. He wanted to impress her, but how to do that without coming across as braggy? “Pretty strong, I guess.”

“Could you lift me?”

He chuckled. “Yes.”

“Could you lift Flash?”

“Um, I guess?”

“Could you chuck him across the football field when we get back?”

He laughed so hard MJ had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from waking their sleeping neighbors. They finished giggling in relative quiet.

“No, seriously,” she said after a minute or so. “How much can you lift, do you think? Like, what’s the heaviest thing you’ve lifted?”

He cast his thoughts back, and he came up with a few memories. “Um, well once right towards the beginning of all this, Captain America dropped a—oh, what’s it called—an airbridge on me. So I guess, taking into account it was _dropped,_ not just _lifted,_ I guess that was the heaviest.”

She blinked, shook her head, and blinked some more.

“You’re glitching out,” he told her. 

“Well, yeah! _Captain America_ dropped an _airbridge_ on you? That requires further explanation,” she said.

He did his best. She was familiar with the Sokovia Accords fiasco, everyone was, so that simplified things. By the time he finished explaining, she still looked confused, but also maybe kind of impressed.

“Wow,” she muttered, staring at him with wide eyes. “That’s gotta be like thousands of pounds of force.”

He shrugged and stared at the carpet, not sure how to respond.

“So, okay, super strength. What else?”

“Um, faster reflexes. Enhanced healing. Better hearing, vision, basically all my senses are at 110% now. Oh, and I have like a sixth sense.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Like, I can kind of sense when bad things are happening. Or when things are going to happen.”

“Sooo…” her fist closed around her water bottle, nearly empty, and whipped it up at him, aiming above his head. That was just a decoy though; the water bottle had scarcely left her hand when she aimed a kick at his side.

It worked. He flinched and watched the bottle fly over his head, then gasped when her foot came arching towards him. At the last second, he was able to block the blow with his forearm, but just barely.

“Yeah, some sixth sense,” she teased.

“Oh, come on!” He protested as she tucked her legs beneath her again. “That doesn’t count, you caught me off guard.”

“Anyway,” she leaned back against the bed. “Would you just tell me your story from the beginning? I don’t want to miss out on anything. Peter Parker’s origin story: go.”

So he did. It was weird but also kind of nice getting to tell it. He’d only ever told Ned (who interrupted every three seconds with enthusiastic questioning) and Aunt May (to whom he told an abridged, watered down version). But with MJ, he didn’t have to worry about any of that. He just talked and she listened. When he got to a point that was hard to talk about, she didn’t push him, just stayed quiet and let him get through it at his own pace.

“Then Mr. Stark found me, not really sure how, and asked me to join Team Iron Man. Took me to Germany, gave me the new suit,” he jabbed a thumb in the general direction of his room. “That’s when the whole Sokovia Accords went down. And you know how well that ended.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up.

“And that’s it, I guess. My origin story, as you called it.”

“Wow.” She said.

“Yeah.” He fiddled with a thread on his T-shirt.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said honestly. “I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

He smiled. “Actually, it was much easier than when I told Ned. You should have seen him—”

“Wait, Ned knows?” She demanded. “Aw, come on! Why’d you tell him and not me? Does everyone know?”

“No, no!” He said quickly. “He found out kind of by accident. He saw me in my suit, sans mask. Same with Aunt May, actually. But other than them, no one knows. Well, except Mr. Stark. And Happy. And Mr. Fury, plus everyone in the room earlier. Oh, and Captain Marvel. And Mr. Toomes. So actually it’s kind of a lot—"

“Mr. Toomes?” Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Liz’s dad? How does he know?”

He froze. Why, why did he have to open his big mouth? Stupid, stupid Peter!

“Peter?” MJ asked hesitantly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Um,” He rubbed his palms against his pajama bottoms. “Do you remember homecoming last year?”

“When you ditched Liz in the middle of the dance floor like a total asshole? Yes, I think I remember.”

He laughed a little and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t _want_ to ditch, I kind of had to. Not that that’s any excuse; still a sucky move on my part, but you see, I had just found out that her dad was actually a bad guy who’d tried to kill me a couple times. He went by the name ‘Vulture’ because he had these giant metal wings made from junk stolen from damage control. And he was on his way to rob Mr. Stark’s plane. I couldn’t just let him get away with it, not when I was the only one who knew about it, you know?”

“Oh,” she said, feeling guilty for having given him a hard time before. “That was really brave of you, going in all alone like that.”

“Oh, I wasn’t alone,” his lips quirked up at the corners. “Ned helped a ton. Saved my life, actually, then helped me remotely. He’s my guy in the chair.”

“Guy in the chair?” She asked, single eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, you know, the guy with the headset telling the other guy which way to go.”

“So…a GPS.”

“Basically.”

She laughed. “So he helped you find him. Then what? What did you do next?”

He didn’t like to remember that night, but he forced himself to. “He was in this warehouse, his sort of lair I guess, but he was expecting me, so he tricked me and dropped the building on me, and when I was distracted with that, he—”

“Woah, woah, woah, time out,” she made a ‘T’ with her hands. “You can’t keep saying things like that and not explain them. He dropped a _building_ on you?”

“Oh…yeah. Well, half a one. He destroyed the,” he gestured in the shape of a support beam. “Stabilizing beam things, and the whole building caved in.”

She gaped at him, expression horrified. “How did you escape?” She asked quietly.

_Dust._

_Water dribbling through his mask._

_Unbearable pressure digging into his flesh, crushing his bones, pinning him fast._

_Can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t see…_

_I’m down here! I’m down here, I’m stuck, I can’t move! I can’t…_

_If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it._

_Come on Peter. Come on Spider Man. Come on Spider Man!_

He gulped, trying to stem the flow of flashbacks. “I just…lifted it. There was no choice really, it was that or die.”

She waited. This didn’t seem like the moment to interject; it was too personal a moment. No doubt traumatic, too, so she simply waited.

His expression cleared after a moment and he continued. “Anyway, I don’t know how, but I did it, then I went after him and somehow managed to crash the plane on Coney Island. Then I tied him up and did my best to salvage what I could from the wreckage. Mr. Stark’s people took over from there.”

“Wow.” She hated that sad look in his eye. He looked like a cornered animal.

She shouldered him, determined to cheer him up. “What else can you do? Super senses, psychic abilities, insane strength. Is that it?”

He brightened instantly. “There’s one more thing I can show you.”

He stood and bounced up and down on his toes for a second. He leapt upward, then…just stayed there. With only his fingertips, he clung to the ceiling and dangled like a chandelier.

“Woah!” She hastened to her feet. “How’d you do that?”

“Pfft, if I knew, I’d tell you,” he said, then swung back and forth until his feet made contact with the ceiling and stuck there too. He got into a crouching position and dangled upside down, face to face with MJ.

He grinned, looking a little ridiculous with his poufy hair. “Hey there.”

“How is this _happening?”_ She tried to get a better look at his hands, but they were too high up. “Huh. Do you control it, or do you sometimes stick to random objects?”

“I mostly control it, but I do get randomly stuck from time to time.”

“Can you walk around and stuff?”

He demonstrated. First, walking around on the ceiling (remarkably similar to walking normally), then on the walls (nothing at all like walking normally. The gravity shift was a huge adjustment, enormous core strength required just to stand up straight). She examined his palms and fingertips, every touch making his heart pound a little faster, then made him stick to random surfaces while she observed.

“Can you stick to people?” She asked at one point.

“What?” He burst out laughing. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” She help up a hand. He pressed his against hers, enjoying the look of her slender fingers against his strong ones.

“Well?” She asked, shaking him from his stupor.

“Right!” He tested it out. “Um, nope, not sticky. That’s a relief.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t take her hand down, and neither did he.

He watched her study their hands for a moment. That look on her face, it was like the one she got whenever she read. Like she wasn’t really _here_. Her mind was somewhere far away. Surely it was just curiosity about his abilities, not Peter himself, making her look that way.

A few heartbeats later, she did withdraw her hand, and he could breathe again.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Hey, I have one more question. Well, actually I have a lot more questions, but those aren’t important right now.”

He gave her a sideways smile. “Shoot,” he said.

“What did Nick Fury mean when he said you’ve been to space?”

His grin slid from his face. “You heard that?” He’d been hoping she didn’t for this very reason.

She looked alarmed over his mood shift. “Well, yes. Did I mishear? Or was it like a metaphor or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he said.

She waited, probably expecting a response. But telling her about his accidental trip to space would mean explaining how he got there, what went down, and what happened after. He hadn’t told anyone the full story; Aunt May knew the gist, but only a watered-down version. And Ned knew bits and pieces, but he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about certain parts. Not even to his best friend.

 _It has been a long time,_ he reasoned with himself. _Over eight months. Maybe it’s time._

He steeled himself, took a deep breath and forced himself to meet MJ’s gaze, but one look at her fretful expression was enough to melt his resolve. He backed away quickly, as if she were about to strike him.

“Peter?” She asked, surprised at his abruptness. “Are you okay? Sorry if I overstepped, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, it’s all good!” He replied perhaps too quickly. “Just, um, it’s kind of a long story and I don’t think there’s time to get into it right now.”

He retreated to the door. “I’m beat. I think I’m gonna go to bed if that’s okay with you.”

“Wh—yeah, of course. You know, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I was just curious. Sorry if I said something to upset you,” she moved towards him, but he stepped away.

“You didn’t,” he assured her, hand gripping the doorknob like his life depended on it. “It’s a long story, that’s all.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, stomach filling with guilt from the look of terror etched in his features. “Goodnight, I guess.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” He tried for a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. He opened the door and practically ran out.

“Wait,” she called after him, but he was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

“Good news!” Mr. Harrington announced cheerily. “We’re going to Prague!”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What’d he say?”

“Prague?”

MJ barely heard her classmates’ confusion. She didn’t care. She was recalling what Nick Fury had said only the night before, something about wanting Peter to go on a mission, and she was pretty sure he said it was in Prague.

Judging by Peter’s slack-jawed expression, he was thinking the same thing. He and Ned exchanged mystified looks—apparently he’d told Ned about the meeting yesterday—but he didn’t look at MJ. She tried not to let it bother her. Part of her wanted be included in the conspiratorial conversations and the knowing glances. It felt like she _should_ be included now; after all, she was one of the few people on earth who knew his true identity. Did he not want her involved? Did he hate that she knew? She hoped not. Not only did the idea of knowing this huge, dangerous secret sound thrilling to her, but she wanted Peter to trust her like he did Ned. She wanted to belong somewhere, to be able to contribute to something meaningful.

She stared at him openly, figuring he’d feel her gaze and look over eventually. But he was transfixed by Mr. Harrington’s spiel.

 _Yeah, he’s avoiding me._ She thought to herself. _No one is_ that _interested in what that man has to say._

“I really gave ‘em hell.” Mr. Harrington finished.

Everyone grabbed their bags and followed him down a short road. MJ lagged, trying to fall into pace with Ned and Peter without being obvious. They didn’t seem to notice as they arrived in an open area with a big luxury bus parked in it.

“Oh, come on,” Peter muttered.

She followed his eyes to the stoic man standing by the door holding a sign that read ‘Midtown High.’ She wasn’t sure what was so dreadful, but slowly the pieces started to click together in her brain.

“I think Nick Fury just hijacked our summer vacation.” He said, definite slump to his shoulders.

“Awesome!” Ned skipped away.

“Hey,” MJ said. She’d managed to get within a foot of him without him noticing. He jumped when she spoke.

“MJ! Jeez, you scared me.”

“Isn’t that the guy…?”

“From last night? Dimitri? Yeah, I think it is.” He said with barely restrained frustration.

“But I thought you weren’t doing the mission,” she said anxiously.

“I didn’t think so either,” they got in line to board with the rest of the class. “But apparently good old Nick has his own agenda.”

Dimitri fixed Peter with a glare (no different than his usual expression) as he got closer. Neither of them spoke, just stared at each other with mutual understanding and—dare she say—dislike.

“Hey, Parker,” Flash jeered the second he was in earshot. “This bus is a lot nicer than the junkers you usually ride, so try not to mess it up too much, okay?”

Peter ignored him and kept right on walking to the back of the bus. MJ was about to follow but was intercepted by Brad.

“Hey, MJ,” he said with a bright smile.

“Hey, Brad,” she said, trying to sound disinterested.

He was undeterred. “There’s an open seat next to me if you want,” he offered, stepping into the aisle and gesturing.

“Actually—”

“Alright, everyone on board?” Mr. Harrington asked. “If you could all quiet down— _quiet down!_ Thank you—and take a seat, that would be great.”

MJ started towards the back of the bus, but Brad was still in the way.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“MJ, why don’t you sit here,” Mr. Harrington took her by the shoulders and steered her into a seat, then made Brad sit next to her. “There we go, and Kirsten, please take a seat as well, thank you! Now, where were we?”

So she was pretty much trapped there for the next few hours, forced to listen to Brad’s infuriatingly cheerful chatter, which on the plane she enjoyed, but now couldn’t stand. All she wanted was to be with Peter. Even if they didn’t talk. She just wanted to be there, next to him, while he got ready to fight a battle he never asked for.

Whenever she could, she snuck glances at him sitting alone in the back of the bus. He normally would have sat with Ned, but he was busy with his new girlfriend, Betty. He looked so lonely back there by himself, it made her heart ache. Especially now that she knew he wasn’t just alone physically, but there were things about him no one could understand; no one ever would. That had to be isolating.

“…gonna love Prague. I’ve never been myself, but my aunt lived in Germany for a couple years and she visited all the time. And according to Wikipedia, there’s some Festival of Lights going on right now, it’s supposed to be a pretty big deal…”

“Mhmm,” she tuned out Brad’s rambling and glanced back at Peter again, but he was gone. Actually, he’d just ducked down to get something from his backpack and returned to her line of vision a moment later. He was holding something, she couldn’t see what, but a moment later he had on a pair of blue-tinged glasses. He sat back and let his eyes roam around to adjust to the colored lenses. Then he looked down and muttered something to himself, and MJ could have sworn she saw the glasses glow blue—

“What about you?”

“Huh?” MJ’s attention snapped back to Brad.

“What about you? What are you most looking forward to about the trip?”

“Uh, well I was looking forward to Paris, but I can just pop by next time I’m in Europe.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” He said, not having picked up on the sarcasm. “I’m really looking forward to…”

While he launched into another monologue, she stole another look at Peter, but he was hunched low in his seat so she couldn’t see. She tried not to be annoyed at Brad; he wasn’t doing anything wrong, per se, but his obvious interest in her was worrisome. Because the more attracted he became to her, the more she found herself attracted to—

 _Woah, slow down MJ,_ she thought to herself. She couldn’t admit these feelings to anyone, even herself. Because now she knows about Peter’s alter ego. How much of Peter is Spider Man, and vice versa? Was she attracted to Peter because of who he is, or was she attracted to Spider Man because he’s a superhero? No, she couldn’t let herself fall for him unless she figured out if she liked him as Peter, Spider Man, or both.

About three hours into the drive, they pulled over at a charming little rest stop. Dimitri announced they’d have ten minutes to go to the bathroom, get some food, whatever.

 _Perfect,_ MJ thought to herself. _Maybe I can talk to Peter now._

But Brad, what an asshole, stepped out into the aisle and made a big, sweeping gesture for her to exit the bus in front of him.

“Er, thanks,” she muttered as she scooted past. No biggie, she could just catch him when he got off.

And yet, luck evaded her. She managed to lose Brad outside by pretending to follow Ned and Betty to the little bakery. Brad went off to find the bathroom instead. She stalled, peeking over her shoulder until he got off the bus dead last. But Dimitri stopped him and redirected him to the adjacent building where no one else was going. She craned her neck to catch a glimpse inside, but saw nothing.

She wanted to follow him, but…no. She shouldn’t interfere again. Last time she eavesdropped, she got busted. And besides, he deserved his privacy. He had the right to share as much or as little as he wanted.

She kept hoping he’d show up in the little café, but he never did. In fact, she didn’t see him at all until they got back on the bus. Something awful must’ve happened in the last few minutes because he looked anxious as hell when he finally reappeared.

Brad sat in the seat behind her this time. She wasn’t sure why he didn’t sit beside her, but she wasn’t about to complain. And Peter, instead of hiding in the back, now sat in the very front by Dimitri. His head kept popping out from behind the seat, like he was checking to make sure no murderers had snuck on board. She wanted so badly to know what was wrong. What could possibly have happened? Was the situation worse than anticipated? Was it now a solo mission? Did he find out he was dying of some disease? What could possibly be scaring him so much?

She was five seconds away from saying ‘Screw it’ and demanding an answer, but then something happened. Peter had described his sixth sense last night, and while he didn’t go into detail, she imagined it was not unlike this. In her gut, she knew something was wrong. Maybe it was the way Dimitri shifted in his seat, or that Peter’s face had gone whiter than usual.

He was looking out the back window, so she looked too but saw nothing unusual. Wait…

 _What is that?_ She wondered. A thin streak of white smoke, far enough away that it could have been a cloud, only it was getting closer alarmingly fast. She turned forwards again, heartrate rising, and heard Peter arguing with Flash, something about, “Give them back! Flash, _Give them back!”_ In low but frantic tones.

MJ looked back again at the smoke which was definitely getting closer. Her anxiety forced her to her feet, but she knew she couldn’t let it show, and she certainly couldn’t let her classmates see the rocket shooting towards them lest they panic.

“Um, Peter…?” She said, voice so quiet she barely heard it herself.

He had his glasses on and was standing in the middle of the aisle. From his expression, he knew full well what this rocket thing was and was preparing to stop it. But he got distracted for a second—she saw the rocket clearly now, saw green lights and two guns emitting from either side—and suddenly the bus lurched to the side, nearly tumbling off the road over a sheer cliff a thousand feet high.

General chaos ensued. So much for her trying not to make the class panic. Not that she was any exception; she was thrown across her seat, nearly faceplanting on the headrest. She saw Peter bend down to retrieve the glasses—how are _those_ his priority right now?—while Mr. Harrington yelled at him to take a seat.

The rocket was still on their tail. Peter saw it too. But everyone was looking at him, he couldn’t do anything without revealing his identity or at the very least, raising suspicion.

“Peter,” Mr. Harrington said commandingly. “Plant your fanny in that seat and—”

“Look at the baby mountain goats!” MJ interrupted, making a big scene so everyone was sure to search for the nonexistent mountain goats.

While they were all distracted, she turned back to the front to see what he’d do, but he was just gone.

 _Is he behind the seat again?_ She wondered anxiously. _Did he fall out the window? Where_ is _he?_

Then he reappeared through the ceiling.

“Don’t see any mountain goats,” Mr. Harrington said like a question. Everyone stared at her.

It took every ounce of self-control not to shout or gape. Instead she stared right back and plastered on a straight face. “You missed ‘em,” she said simply and fell back into her seat.

Everyone returned to their conversations, everyone except Peter and MJ and probably Dimitri. No one else had any idea how close they all came to dying. She definitely needed to have a talk with Peter about this later.

“Hey, MJ?” Her heart leapt because she thought it was Peter but settled right back down when she saw who it was.

“Oh. Hey, Brad.” She said dully.

“Can I sit?”

“Sure.”

“I want to show you something.”


	4. Chapter 4

The Prague hotel was _much_ nicer than the one in Venice. Much nicer than practically any place MJ had ever seen. MJ enjoyed the juxtaposition of her classmates’ attire with the luxury hotel, its marble floors, golden pillars, and soft piano music. Everything about it screamed luxury and class, and everything about them screamed _We don’t belong here!_ She savored every moment.

She knew she’d never catch Peter alone here, at least not until they all went to their rooms. Even if she could, this was too public a place to have such a sensitive conversation. So she didn’t even try. It was tempting, though, when she saw him take a call and wander off by himself. She resisted even when Ned went over to talk with him. What could they be talking about? She wanted to join, but was afraid that might be inserting herself in a place she didn’t belong. She wasn’t even sure Ned knew she knew. Best to take it slow, not force Peter to tell her anything he didn’t want to.

Mr. Harrington was telling them all about the Carnival of Lights. It was an annual 4-day festival in which light installations are put up all over the city. It’s a very recent tradition, only about 7 years old, intended to celebrate the old and new cultures. All this sounded great to MJ, she was genuinely excited to be part of it.

“You’ll get to see a little of the city tonight; Mr. Dell and I will each take a group around to the most academically relevant displays, then I know you’ll all be tired, so try not to stay out too late. So why don’t you all check into your rooms, then meet back here in an hour!”

Everyone cheered and rushed the teachers to get their room keys. Peter trailed behind looking distracted.

“You okay?” She asked surreptitiously, not that anyone was paying them the least bit of attention.

He swallowed and bobbed his head a little. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She studied him. There was a crease between his brows and his hands were clenched in tight fists. Something had happened since they got off the bus; he hadn’t looked this upset before.

She bit her lip, not sure if she was overstepping, and asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Um, actually…”

“Or not,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought, if you needed someone to talk to, I’m, you know, I’m here.” She stammered.

He pressed his lips together in restraint, but whether laughter or annoyance, she wasn’t sure. “I know,” he said. “And I do want to, but I actually have to go. Pretty soon. I think. She wasn’t super clear. But when I get back, I can tell you about it if you want.”

She flushed. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend. I totally understand that you don’t want to talk to me.”

“MJ—” He started to speak, but she plowed on.

“I know I found out by accident and you probably didn’t want me to know in the first place, and now I’m putting you in a weird position by asking about this stuff. I’ll back off, really. You don’t have to pretend like we’re suddenly a team now. We can go back to how things were before.”

“Woah, woah, that’s not what I want at all!” He glanced around and led her off to the side. “Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you know? I’ve wanted to tell you for so long. I hate lying and keeping secrets; I’m terrible at it.”

She grunted. He had a point.

He looked a little guilty. “But—and this is not an excuse!—I really do have to go soon. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but maybe I could come by your room again and let you know what’s up?”

“I mean…” He certainly sounded sincere. What reason did she have not to believe him? She gave him the chance to get rid of her, but he didn’t take it. Maybe he really did want her involved. “Sure, I guess.”

He grinned. “Great. What room are you?”

“102.”

“Awesome. See you tonight.”

The clock ticking on the wall was deafening. Each second was like a hammer striking her chest. She was currently pacing around her hotel room, waiting for Peter to show up. It’d been almost an hour, Mr. Harrington was expecting them in the lobby in less than fifteen minutes. If Peter didn’t show up in time, should she wait for him? Or would it draw attention? She should try and act normal, cover him if anyone asks questions.

_Knock, knock._

Her heart nearly leapt out of her mouth. She started for the door, but then her brain caught up and told her that knock hadn’t come from the door.

Even though she should’ve been expecting it, her heart nearly stopped again when she saw a male figure in the window. She supposed that’s not a sight one should be familiar with.

She hurried to open the window. He was crouched on the ledge almost timidly, toes barely clinging to the edge, fingertips adhering to the glass.

“Hey,” he said, casually swinging inside.

“Hey,” she said, matching his tone.

She sat on the swivel desk chair, gesturing for him to sit on the foot of the bed, but he either didn’t notice or disregarded her because he remained standing.

“So…” she started. Hopefully, he’d be prompted to start explaining.

He started to pace. Every time he looked about to talk, he stopped, shook his head, and kept pacing. Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to be patient, not when they were on the clock.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” She said finally. “What the hell happened on the bus?” She meant for it just to be that one question, but more came flooding out. “What’s the deal with those glasses? And what was that rocket thing following us? Why was it trying to kill us? Where did you go when we stopped at the rest stop? Who called you earlier? It seemed to really upset you, are you alright? What did Nick Fury have to say?”

She might as well have shot him for the reaction he showed. Every time he tried to answer a question, she asked another until he was completely befuddled.

“Sorry,” she breathed deeply.

“It’s okay,” his lip ticked up at the corner. “All fair questions. I guess I should start with Edith.”

“Edith?” MJ hated the pulse of jealousy that coursed through her. “Who’s Edith?”

“Not who. What.” He rummaged in his backpack.

“That’s objectifying,” she muttered, not sure if he was kidding or not.

Apparently he was, because he laughed. “No, no, she’s—well, let me introduce you.”

He emerged with a glossy wooden case small enough to fit in his hand. When he opened them, she saw the blue glasses he was wearing earlier. She could’ve sworn she saw a black card in there as well, but Peter snapped it shut before she got a good look.

He put them on, and they glowed blue. She knew she hadn’t imagined that earlier.

“Hey, Edith,” Peter said.

A muted, female voice replied in robotic monotone, _“Hello, Peter.”_

“Say hello to MJ.”

The volume adjusted automatically so she could hear clearly. _“Hello, MJ. I am Edith.”_

She blinked, lips parted, but managed to say, “Your sunglasses are speaking to me.”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“W…why? How?”

He was still smiling when he spoke again. “She can explain it better than me. Edith?”

A silence, and the glasses lit up again. _“I am Edith, Tony Stark’s augmented-reality security defense system. Edith stands for ‘_ Even Dead, I’m the Hero.’ _Tony loved his acronyms.”_ MJ almost felt bad for laughing, but Peter was smiling too.

She continued. “ _I have access to the entire Stark Global Security network, including multiple defense satellites, as well as backdoors to all major telecommunication networks.”_

She rattled off a little more information that just about blew MJ’s brain. When she finished her spiel, Peter took the glasses off and waited for her reaction.

“Wait, so,” she didn’t know where to start. “Edith is yours, right?”

“Right.”

“She controls all of Tony Stark’s security measures? All the weaponized defense satellites, all that?”

“Yeah.”

“And you control Edith?”

He shifted his weight. “I don’t like that phrasing, but, yeah basically.”

“So basically you’re in charge of Earth’s security. You. A sixteen-year-old high schooler with an alter ego.”

He withdrew into himself. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“No, no! That’s not how I meant it!” She backtracked. “It’s just hard to believe is all.”

She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. How could she not have known how much power, how much _pressure,_ rested on his shoulders? “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why you? I mean, I know you worked with him in the past, but were you and Tony Stark really that close?”

She laughed a little at the idea of Tony Stark and Peter Parker being close. Of them being friends, coworkers, partners, whatever. It was all ridiculous. But Peter didn’t seem to find it funny. His hands didn’t know what to do, they ghosted over his face, through his hair, in his pockets and out again.

“I don’t know why he gave them to me,” he said heavily, in a tone graver than she’d ever heard. He seemed physically worn down by whatever thoughts were going through his mind.

He didn’t answer her second question, and while she was dying to know the answer, she didn’t push him. She couldn’t blame him for not trusting her enough yet. Hopefully, he’d learn to trust her in time.

She changed the subject quickly. “So this is Edith, got it. What about the bus? What’s the story behind that?”

He sat on the edge of the bed and updated her on what’s been going on. Meeting that lady who made him the suit, getting Edith, figuring out her abilities, and accidentally calling a drone strike on the bus.

“But I don’t understand how you _accidentally_ call a drone strike in the first place,” she said at one point, but he got super red in the face and didn’t give a clear answer.

He kept talking, and she didn’t interrupt. It was clear he just needed to get this all off his chest, to hear it out loud, to process. She could give him that, at the very least.

“Anyway, now I’m here, and so are you guys, and now I have to figure out how to kill this monster—the monster that destroyed an entire _planet_ —before it destroys this planet and all the people on it.” He flopped back on the bed and slung an arm over his eyes. “A year ago, I would’ve given anything for an opportunity like this, but now all I can think is how unprepared I am.”

He sounded so hopeless she didn’t know what to say. Any words of encouragement would sound cheap and meaningless, and she couldn’t exactly provide him with strategy or advice.

MJ was by no means an expert in the intricacies of social interaction, but this was one occasion on which she was certain. Seeing him there by himself, it was like an insight into how he must be feeling. Isolated and alone, not just physically, but situationally. Very few could hope to understand how it must feel to be this young and thrust into life-or-death situations on a daily basis. Even fewer could be able to understand his unique abilities. And now it wasn’t just his life on the line, but the whole human race. He didn’t need useless words of comfort, he didn’t need anyone to try and empathize, he just needed someone to be _there._

She got up quietly and sat down next to him. The mattress dipped, but she wasn’t sure he even noticed. With trembling fingers, she reached over and took his hand.

He was so surprised, he uncovered his eyes and stared at their intertwined fingers. He finally looked her in the eyes, but she was blushing so hard she just stared at the comforter.

Neither said anything for a while after that. He relaxed slowly until he reached a point where he almost believed he could do this. He wasn’t alone, after all; he had MJ, and Mr. Fury and Maria Hill, and Mr. Beck, of course, who would literally be fighting by his side.

He sat up, and their hands disentangled.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” she said, matching his tone.

The silence was charged with a foreign, intimate energy. Normally, she would have broken it with a dark joke or a flippant remark, but this was way too personal a moment. She had no idea what to do or say next, and apparently neither did he.

Eventually, they looked at each other and just that look was enough to break the tension.

“Well, um,” he said, dragging his palms over his thighs.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, and they stood up together.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said sincerely. “I know you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he said. She couldn’t bear to look at the unabashed honesty of his expression. “Sorry if I talked your ear off. It’s just, you’re easy to talk to.”

She squelched the start of a pleased grin. “Yeah, well, you know what they say. ‘The most basic of all human needs is the need to understand and to be understood. The best way to understand people is to listen to them.’”

“People say that?”

“Ralph Nichols did.”

“I don’t know who that is, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“A wise decision.”

He laughed, and for a second, it looked as if all his previous stress had evaporated. It reappeared right away, though, when MJ’s watch beeped.

“9:00,” she said. “We should get downstairs. Unless you have to go?”

“Actually, no. Mr. Fury said he’d be in touch when I’m needed, whatever that means. So I’ll hang out with you guys until then, I guess.”

“Oh, great!” She said, trying to curb her relief. “Let’s get going then, shall we?”


	5. Chapter 5

“Good news—we’re going to the opera!”

Mr. Harrington’s announcement was received with confusion by most, except Peter and MJ. While everyone else was muttering in puzzlement, the two of them did their best to assume natural positions, which of course meant they sat stiffly and awkwardly, and if anyone had bothered to pay attention, they would have been instantly suspicious.

Ned must’ve known something was up because he looked back at Peter and his wide-eyed expression. Without saying anything, Peter nodded deliberately as if to say _Go with it!_

“None of us have ever wanted to go to the opera. Ever.” Flash complained.

“Uh, well, I think this is gonna be culturally enriching for us,” Ned piped up, much to the irritation of his classmates. But for Peter, it was nice to have someone else take the heat.

Mr. Harrington told them all go to back to their rooms and change into their formalwear, which they were instructed to bring along in case such an occasion warranted.

MJ caught Peter on the way upstairs. “So, does this have anything to do with you-know-what?” she whispered.

He nodded. “I needed some way to keep everyone inside for a few hours.”

She grunted. “Smart.”

They parted to go change and reunited in the lobby not long after. They didn’t really get a chance to talk then, or even on the walk to the theater; the carnival was booming, eliminating any chance of a serious conversation.

The theater was gorgeous, but they didn’t have time to appreciate it. The knowledge that Peter could be called out to fight at any moment squelched any positive thought. She could only conjure up thoughts of fire and smoke and blood and—

 _Enough!_ She told herself abruptly. _This is_ Spider Man, _don’t forget. He’s fought stuff like this before, it’ll be a cinch. He’ll be there and back again before you know it. Don’t worry._

Her brain could think like that all it liked, but it couldn’t relay the message to her hands, which were trembling more with each passing second, or her knees, which were sure to give out any moment.

She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. Opening them, she faced Peter.

“Heard anything from Fury yet?” She asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’ll probably be soon though.”

“Oh.” What could she possibly say next? “Well, in the meantime, maybe you can catch some of the play.”

He laughed, and her hands stilled. His mood seemed tied to hers; he was about to go to battle. If he could laugh now, she had no reason to worry.

All that changed, of course, when Peter suddenly got a faraway look in his eye. He pressed a finger to his ear and listened while MJ watched tensely.

“Not yet,” he said, and listened some more.

She tried to guess what was being said on the other side. Unfortunately, it didn’t take much deduction to figure it out.

“Yes, sir.” A beat. “Okay. I’m on my way.”

He withdrew his hand and looked at her helplessly.

“So,” she said, throat closing. “I guess you have to go, huh?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Um, if anyone asks for some reason, could you just tell them I’m sick or something?”

“Of course,” she said obligingly.

He smiled, but it was a thin veil over layers and layers of complex emotion.

“Well, I—”

“Good luck,” they said at the same time.

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “Hopefully, we’ll—er, I’ll see you soon.” He impulsively pulled her into a quick, awkward hug, then disappeared around the corner.

She stared at the spot he’d been standing a moment earlier, willing time to reverse to that moment. But it did not oblige.

Brad walked past, smiled at her and said, “I’ll save you a seat?”

She was a little surprised to realize the only way she’d be tempted to accept is if it were Peter asking.

So in a moment of weakness or strength, she wasn’t sure yet, she abandoned the class to go after him.

She lost him at the next street. Granted, he did have the advantage with his fancy webshooters while she was stuck with her own two feet to carry her place to place. So she wandered ahead with no real plan, just kept walking in the same general direction he went.

She wasn’t really aware of her surroundings, just kept walking, turning left and right, left and right, left and right in a huge zigzag pattern that kept her going more or less straight. At a certain point though, she couldn’t not notice how crowded it was getting. The theater had been nearly vacated, but as she walked, she passed more and more people. There was a glow up ahead, probably from the festival.

 _Hmm, I wonder,_ she thought to herself and forged into the mob. This seemed like the perfect place for a monster attack—right in the middle of a crowded square.

The lights were distracting, especially when the person she was looking for was dressed in all black. She kept her eyes aimed up at the roofs and balconies, where she figured he’d be. Or maybe clinging to the side of a wall.

Alas, as she made her way around the square, she had no luck. Not even a shadowed glimpse out the corner of her eye, nothing to mistake as Peter.

She came to a stop in front of a metal statue in the center. Nothing extraordinary, just a couple of horses rearing their heads, but something felt off about it. She couldn’t place it exactly, so she went closer to inspect. It was smoking near the base, was that normal? Or maybe a weird Festival of Lights tradition?

 _Nope, definitely not a tradition,_ she thought as the stone steps beneath her feet shifted. They swelled and cracked as streams of lava burst forth, snaking their way up the statue and encasing it in smoke before exploding in a spray of fire.

By this point, she had regained enough common sense to turn and run as fast as she could. There was a horrible roar and an explosion behind her, but she didn’t dare look; she just kept running. She ducked into the nearest secluded alley and threw herself into a shallow doorway.

Her heart was pounding. She swore she could feel her skin being singed from the monster’s flames. Every cell in her body was telling her to run further, to not stop until an ocean stood between her and the monster.

But…she couldn’t. Peter was there, or at least on his way, and she couldn’t let him be here alone. Even if he didn’t know she was there, she’d be ready to jump in and save him at any moment, even if that meant sacrificing herself.

It took immense courage to peek out from the doorway. She couldn’t see much through the narrow alley opening, but the little she could see was terrifying. There was a flash of green light—the source of which, she had no idea. Maybe his new teammate, Mysterio?—and an enormous plume of smoke. It was so thick it seeped into her alley and made her cough.

“Beck!...Carousel—getting bigger!”

She waved the smoke away and refocused her attention. Was that Peter’s voice or was she imagining it?

She forced herself to creep closer. Not close enough to be in the line of fire (so to speak), but close enough that she could see what was going on.

She saw the fire monster clearly for the first time. It was vaguely humanoid in figure, with clear limbs and a head, but that’s where the resemblance ended. It was comprised of molten lava, great ropes of it whipping and spraying about. Even from here, a good fifty feet away, she could feel heat emanating from it.

It turned its misshapen lump of a head toward the Ferris wheel—or, more accurately, towards a small figure standing in front of it. _Peter!_ She thought, relieved. That is, until the fire monster started towards him, making incredible progress in just a few steps.

Peter was distracted by something above him, so when he turned around, he saw that it was really too late to think strategically. He shot both his webshooters at the monster, forgetting that his webs were not, in fact, fireproof.

MJ gasped as she watched the twin lines of flame, like two fuses with Peter as the bomb. Without thinking, she stepped forward to try and help, but it turns out there was no need. Mysterio soared overhead, landing beside Peter a split second before the monster slammed his great fists on top of them.

MJ let out an audible yelp and clasped her hands over her mouth. The monster was pounding against Mysterio’s protective force field with such incredible impact she couldn’t believe it held. She could feel the force of it even from where she stood.

“Oh, God,” she whispered in prayer. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

Something had to be done soon. They couldn’t stay there forever, lest the creature get bored of them and wreak havoc elsewhere. Assuming the shield could even hold that long.

Luckily, they seemed to have the same thought, because a moment later, Peter and Mysterio burst forth like soda from an aggravated bottle.

The monster recovered quickly. It went after Peter first. It chased after him, shooting columns of fire from his hands to corral him to the edge of the square. Peter sprinted away, and MJ lost sight of him in the cloud of smoke.

MJ moved into the next closest doorway, just close enough to see while still not technically in the danger zone.

She searched along the edge of the building—surely Peter would run to the side, not into the building—but a second later she saw him running _up the side of the building._ She’d almost forgotten he could do that.

But that was hardly the last trick up his sleeve. The fire lapped at his heels, and just as it began to overtake him, he leapt from the wall in a graceful flip, smoke pulling at his dark suit. She didn’t see what he did next, must’ve thrown a piece of rubble at it or something, because the beast staggered back and Mysterio came swooping in with his lasers.

She watched the two heroes alternate hitting the monster with rocks, rubble, and beams of green light. It was incredible to watch. She’d never seen Spider Man in action before, not personally. The videos on YouTube were different; at least with those, she knew who would win. Plus, she’d always had the small consolation that she could be wrong about his true identity. Not anymore.

 _Smash!_ The monster slammed the ground and great cracks appeared in the concrete. They snaked their way to the Ferris wheel and upset the ground beneath it. It swayed dangerously but didn’t fall. For some reason, the monster made for it but was intercepted by Mysterio. Peter went to help; he shot a web at the wheel, yanked back, and loosed some piece of metal that went soaring towards MJ’s alley. She ducked back into the doorway, sure that he’d see her.

Luckily, he didn’t; too distracted by the fifty-foot lava creature trying to kill him and his friend.

She stared at the chunk of metal Peter had thrown her way. It was odd; the metal didn’t seem to have come from the Ferris wheel. It almost looked like it was ripped off something stationed in front of it. She didn’t see what it was, but it was not the Ferris wheel. She wasn’t sure what compelled her, but she snatched it up and stuffed it in her backpack.

When she refocused on the fight at hand, Mysterio was still holding back the monster and Peter was swinging around securing the Ferris wheel. A couple cars showed up—hopefully police and not some crazy thrill-seekers

Mysterio laid on another burst of green lasers and forced the monster back so far a tower of scaffolding fell on him. At first, MJ thought this was great. Until it absorbed the metal beams and swelled in size.

 _That must be why they’re so determined to keep it from the Ferris wheel,_ she realized.

Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, the monster swelled _again_ until it was nearly twice the size it was at the beginning of this whole fight. That moment stretched on and on. It dawned on her; this could be it. She might be forced to watch her best friend die right in front of her. Spider Man might not save the day, this might be the battle he couldn’t win.

But Mysterio had other plans. He held his arms out and summoned that green energy until it almost overcame him. Then, with all the force he could muster, he hurled himself at the monster, embedding deep inside its chest.

“ _Beck!_ ” She heard Peter scream.

The lava turned from orange to green before exploding in an array of pure, glittering light.

She shrieked and ducked back in the doorway, trembling head to foot. She’d probably been shaking the whole time and just didn’t notice until everything else stilled. The silence was a shock after the chaos that just ensued.

By the time she regained logic and rationality, Peter was already at Beck’s side.

“Mr. Beck?” He asked in a trembling voice.

She saw him stir—no way could he have survived—and stood up with Peter’s help.

Nick Fury approached the two heroes with the swagger of one who’d singlehandedly dispatched the monster. The arrogance! He did absolutely nothing! To show up after all that having done nothing at all? The nerve of that guy.

He exchanged a few words with Beck; it was hard to hear over the angry ringing in her ears. It faded enough to hear Beck say something like “I just might take you up on that.” Take him up on what, she wondered.

Then he turned to Peter, who was standing a few paces away and looking astonishingly insecure. Peter, who’d just helped defeat a lava monster ready to destroy the entire planet. He literally saved the human race, yet in front of Nick Fury, he shriveled like a leaf in autumn.

“You got gifts, Parker,” he started. Good. He’d better be well on his way to a profound ‘thank-you.’

“But you didn’t want to be here.”

“Mr. Fury, I—”

Her face filled with such heat she almost became the second fire monster of the day. How _dare_ this man make Peter feel guilty for not wanting responsibility for something he wasn’t ready for! He should be on his knees thanking Peter and worshiping the ground he walks on.

“I’d love to have you in Berlin too,” Fury continued. “But you’ve got to decide if you’re going to step up or not. Stark chose you. He made you an Avenger. I need that. The _world_ needs that. Maybe Stark was wrong.”

Peter went utterly still, and so did MJ.

“Was he?”

He lowered his head. Though barely an inch, that movement conveyed more shame than any words could have.

“The choice is yours.”

And he left. Drove away, leaving Peter to deal with the consequences of his heroism. He didn’t even help clean up! Of all the selfish, manipulative, arrogant—

Peter dipped his head again and she heard a light sniff. Her heart ached; he was crying. Crying out of shame, fear, regret, guilt, she wasn’t sure. All she wanted to do was comfort him, wrap him in an embrace and never let go.

She was two seconds from marching out there and doing just that when Beck stood and clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Let’s get a drink,” he said casually.

Peter stared after him in befuddlement. “I’m not 21,” he said.

She would have laughed if it weren’t for the gravity of what’d just transpired. And while she still wanted to do something to make him feel better, she couldn’t do that now. She’d have to wait until he brought it to her— _if_ he brought it to her. He had no idea she’d seen the fight. For all he knew, she was at the opera house with Brad. No, she couldn’t tell him she saw the fight and the aftermath. He would probably feel insecure about crying in front of her, and that’s the last thing he needed. She could go on pretending if that meant sparing him a little discomfort. He got enough burdens from everyone else; she vowed right then and there she would only serve to unload his burden in whatever way she knew how.


	6. Chapter 6

MJ headed straight back to the hotel—zero interest in the opera—which was lucky, because her entire class was back there too. She guessed they’d heard the explosions and earthquakes and fled the opera to the relative safety of the hotel.

“Barry?”

“Here!”

“Jason?”

“Yeah, here.”

“MJ?”

Mr. Harrington was calling roll, but she was just too far to hear her name called. The teacher’s head snapped up, eyes bright with panic, and scanned the crowd. “MJ?” He called, louder this time. “Michelle Jones!”

“I’m here!” She said, waving a hand from the back of the crowd.

His shoulders sagged. “Phew. Good. Alright then, Ronda, where are you?”

“Right here!”

When he got to Peter’s name, MJ covered by telling him he was in the bathroom. She didn’t think it was that convincing, but what reason did he have not to believe her?

They were told to go straight to their rooms and pack up—they were leaving first thing in the morning, if not sooner. She was disappointed to be sure, but compared to everything else she hardly gave it a second thought.

Peter still hadn’t returned. She thought the best thing to do would be to wait in her room, maybe he’d stop by again like last time. She hoped he would.

She plopped her backpack on the bed and sat beside it, staring at the suitcase which she hadn’t even bothered to unpack upon arrival. Saved her the hassle, but also gave her nothing to do. She didn’t feel like drawing (a totally new sensation) and no book or movie could hope to distract her from the events that just transpired.

With nothing better to do, she unzipped her backpack and drew out the piece of metal from earlier. There were still webs on it. They were oddly beautiful, thin and delicate like snowflakes, but incredibly strong. She tried to tug a strand off the metal’s surface but was unable to no matter how hard she tried.

Something about it…she couldn’t place it, but something felt off. For one thing, she couldn’t tell what the hell it was. It had interlocking bands of metal creating a sort of barrel connecting to another, half-broken piece. What she wouldn’t give to examine the entire machine.

She hit the side with her palm a few times, shook it, held it to her ear and listened to it, nothing helped her understand it. Her brain was exploding with theories an ideas, all of which went out the window when she heard Ned’s voice outside.

“ _Peter!_ Oh, God, we almost died!” Followed by Peter’s quick reassurance.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Hey guess what? I’m done with the mission!”

“Dude, the trip’s over.”

“What?”

MJ didn’t realize she had her ear pressed against the door until that very moment. Part of her felt bad for eavesdropping, but she’s gone this far.

“There’s monsters coming out of the ground everywhere we go, of course our parents would want us home.”

Mr. Harrington’s voice joined the show. He was muttering to himself, then he saw Peter and his voice took on such a relieved tone it was almost hard to listen to.

“Please don’t put me on hold—oh, Peter! You’re not dead! Oh my God. Yes, good, stay here, don’t die, put some clothes on!” MJ wasn’t sure who he was talking to there. “We’re bookin’ flights!”

She heard Mr. Dale too, and a girl’s voice, probably Betty calling to Ned. At that point, she figured she’d already been eavesdropping, why not spy a little too? So she peeked through the peep hole and saw a distorted image of Peter in his white dress shirt and dark pants, looking around helplessly as he was left to absorb the news.

When she saw he was alone, she pulled the door open and leaned against the doorjamb.

“Hey,” she said casually.

He whipped around in surprise. “Hey!”

“So, did everything…go alright?” She asked nonchalantly, in case anyone else was eavesdropping.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. It’s all taken care of.” He said with a smile and a lightness that totally contrasted with his earlier mood. He bounced on his toes a little. “Um, actually, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to, er, take a walk?” He asked haltingly, face flushing.

“A walk?” She repeated.

“Yeah. I just, um, well we haven’t really seen much of the city, and I guess we’re leaving tomorrow and I’m totally not ready to go, and there are a couple things I wanted to talk to you about, so—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, surprising even herself.

He blinked. “Yes, like you…wanna go?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, awesome! Uh, I’ll see you outside in 10 minutes?”

“See you outside in five minutes.”

“Five is good.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

He skipped away and she shut the door with slightly trembling hands. Did he just…ask her out? It certainly sounded like it. A late night walk in the streets of Prague, just the two of them, that sounded like a date. Unless he just wanted to get away from their classmates so they could openly discuss the night’s events. But it could be both, right?

“Oh, shit,” she muttered, falling against the wall, palm pressed to her forehead as she contemplated what to do next. What should she wear? Would Peter stay in his dress clothes? Should she keep her opera dress on? Would that be weird if it turned out not to be a date?

“Alright, MJ, you are being ridiculous.” She scolded herself, marching to her suitcase and tossing it on the bed. She zipped it open and pulled out a few clothes. She decided she was going to dress for herself, not for Peter or anyone else. And right now, she wanted to wear a dress with a denim jacket and combat boots because it made her feel like a badass warrior queen.

Peter was fidgeting. The whole walk from the hotel to the bridge was accompanied by wrung hands and hunched shoulders.

They didn’t talk much, just looked around at the city and her people. He clearly had something on his mind, but he seemed to be waiting for something. Maybe for them to be alone?

The silence was starting to build. No one was around to fill the space between their words. She had no idea what to say, so she just blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “You know they used to execute people on this bridge?”

He didn’t quite know how to react.

“They would, like, put ‘em in a basket and they would drown them in water.”

That little statement did not eliminate the awkwardness.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“It’s okay,” he chuckled.

Their hands brushed for half a second and both ripped their hand away as though they’d been burned. “Uh, here’s a bench, do you wanna sit for a minute?”

They sat, deliberately not touching, side by side. She set her backpack on the ground between their feet. The silence became charged, and she got the feeling he was working up the courage to say something.

“I, uh,” she started before he could begin. “I have a confession to make.”

He became quite still and stared at her with round eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah, uh,” she coughed. “I kinda…followed you tonight.”

He stared at her uncomprehending. “You followed me. Where? Not to…”

“Your mission thing, yeah.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. “I’m sorry. I know it was wrong to follow you…again. But I swear I won’t do it anymore. That was the last time, I promise.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “You do kind of have a habit of stalking me, don’t you?”

“I do not!”

“Oh, you so do,” he teased. He dropped his lighthearted tone suddenly. “So you saw everything then huh?”

“Pretty much.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Where were you? I didn’t see you.”

“Oh, I hid between a couple buildings across from the Ferris Wheel. You wouldn’t have seen me. I’m a master of disguise.”

They discussed the battle at length; Peter was very modest, barely acknowledging his own heroics and instead praising Beck: ‘ _Did you see those lasers? I wonder if those are part of his suit or if he has magic,’_ and ‘ _Man, he almost had me there. If it weren’t for Beck I’d be dead right now.’_

“It was really amazing how he sacrificed himself like that,” Peter mused, and she wondered if he was thinking of Tony Stark.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “What happened then? I didn’t stick around once I saw you were okay.”

His shoulders relaxed in relief. She was glad she didn’t tell him how she saw him cry. “Um, not much. Mr. Fury and Ms. Hill talked to us—looks like Beck’s going to Berlin with them—then Beck and I went to get a drink. Well, he did, anyway.”

“You know the drinking age here is like 16, right?”

He opened his mouth and hesitated. “Dammit, you’re right.”

She couldn’t help laughing at him. “Anyway, you went for a drink, what then? What did you talk about?”

“Oh, I dunno. Not much, just superhero stuff, he gave me some really good advice, then I gave him—” He stopped talking abruptly.

“What?”

“Uh,” he glanced quickly at her then around the bridge to make sure they were alone. “Edith. I gave him Edith.”

“ _WHAT?_ ” She burst out. He shushed her.

“ _What?”_ She repeated in a whisper. “Why would you do that?”

“Why would I not? I mean, come on, MJ!” He spread his hands, imploring her to understand. “I’m just a teenager, what do I know about global security? I have barely any experience outside New York, Edith should be with someone who actually knows what they’re doing, someone who—”

A spark popped at their feet, a pulse of light glowed through her bag’s zipper. Without speaking, both of them shot up and jumped a good few feet away.

“What the…” Peter was in a slight crouch, arms poised to shoot a web at the slightest movement.

The light pulsed again, slowly, lazily. It was a cool, greyish tone at first, then a flash of green interrupted the flow.

“What _is_ that?” Peter asked, inching towards the backpack.

“Oh, I totally forgot about that!” MJ excitedly knelt down and removed the strange metal piece. Sure enough, that’s where the glow was coming from. “I found it in the wreckage earlier, I had no idea what it was. Guess it’s some kind of projector.”

Without the bag’s restraints, they could clearly see the projected image. Fog, a giant smoky figure emerging from it, then…

“Oh, God,” Peter’s face had drained of color. They were both thinking the same thought, and without conferring with each other, they took off back down the bridge where they’d come.


	7. Chapter 7

“How could I be that _stupid!”_ He muttered furiously, peering through the window then whipping the curtains shut. “He’s probably spying on me right now or sending a drone to come and kill me!”

“Yeah, that was a bad move on your part,” she said matter-of-factly. But one look at his browbeaten face broke through her insensitive side. She stayed quiet and let him think.

He scurried around the room, opening laptops, peeking through the curtains, checking the door. She would have thought him paranoid if she wasn’t absolutely convinced of the rationality. Maybe they were both paranoid. Probably not.

“I can’t believe I…” he said flatly, helplessly. He pounded his forehead with his fist and groaned. “I can’t believe I gave him those glasses.”

“What are we going to do?” She asked.

He seemed to come out from his despair marginally as his brain was given a new task. “What are we going to do…what to do?”

His eyes lit with sudden inspiration. “Mr. Fury! I have to call Mr. Fury, but…”

“What?”

“He might have tapped my phone.”

“So use mine,” she handed it to him, and he reached out but didn’t take it.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” he said, withdrawing. “Who knows, he might have seen us together, he might expect that. It’s too risky.”

“Okay, so what now?”

Another idea flashed in his eyes. “I need my suit and I have to go to Berlin, talk to Mr. Fury in person.”

He’d taken off his hoodie and t-shirt before he’d even finished talking. She tried really hard to maintain eye contact; until she realized he was waiting for her to turn around.

“Uh…I’ll just…” she cleared her throat and turned away. Her cheeks felt warm.

There was a slight creak, and in the doorway stood a stunned-looking Ned. Whether he was more surprised by a half-dressed Peter or MJ’s presence, she wasn’t sure. Maybe both, but either was enough to stun him into silence.

“Ah, Ned, perfect!”

“The costume looks great!” Ned said, recovering his wits. “For the…” and promptly losing them again, “for the costume party at the…prince’s castle.”

“She knows, I told her.” Peter said dismissively.

“He didn’t tell me. I figured it out.” MJ said, feeling that was an important distinction.

“Oh,” Ned said, relaxing marginally. “That’s cool.”

“Like a long time ago.”

He shifted his gaze to Peter quizzically. “Oh.”

“Look, Mysterio is a fraud,” Peter said, cutting right to the chase.

“But—but he saved me and Betty’s lives.”

“No he’s been faking the whole thing with illusion tech.” MJ told him.

“Yeah. He’s using these like hologram projectors.” Peter added.

“Woah, that’s…crazy.”

“Yeah.” She and Peter looked at each other, realizing just how crazy it really was.

“So you guys were like working the case together or what?” Was that a twinge of jealousy in his voice?

MJ shrugged. “It’s been mostly me.”

“Look, Ned, I need you to call May, get her to call Mr. Harrington, say that she wanted me to stay with family in Berlin until this all blows over, okay?”

“Got it. Easy.” Ned said, and MJ was a little taken aback. “I’ll call her right now.”

He left, phone already pressed to his ear, and closed the door behind him.

“Wow, you guys lie with such ease,” MJ said.

Peter didn’t comment, just grabbed the projector off the bed and strode to the window. “I gotta go,” he said.

“Woah, wait wait wait!”

“Don’t tell anyone about this, okay? Anyone who knows is in danger.”

“Including you?” She blurted before he could leap out the window.

He turned his head to the side so she could only see his profile. His left hand held the projector and his right clenched the window jamb. “MJ…I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” she argued. “You said it yourself, he could be trying to kill you right now.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

That shut her up. She wished she could see if his face was as red as hers felt.

“Look, MJ,” he let go of the window and came back inside. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I just know that you’re in more danger with me around, so I’ve gotta go take care of this as soon as possible.”

“Not necessarily,” she protested. “What if he’s already sent a drone out here to blow up the hotel or something? What if he saw me at the festival earlier? He already knows we know each other, maybe he’s sending a drone to kill me too.”

He looked a little sick at that, and she could tell her words were getting through to him. “Wouldn’t we be much safer together? If, say, he does try to kill you or me or both, then at least we’ll be around to protect each other. Not to mention far away from the class, all our friends who might get caught in the crossfire.”

“I don’t know…”

“Yeah, you do,” she said with certainty. “We should stick together. You know I’m right.”

He hesitated. “No, I…I dunno, I still think it’s more dangerous the closer we get to Beck.”

“But we’re not _going_ to Beck,” she pointed out. “We’re going to Fury, aren’t we? What safer place than by the ex-director of the Avengers?”

He was quiet, an internal battle fighting to be resolved. At long last, he sighed, resigned. “Maybe you’re right.”

 _Yes!_ She wanted to cheer but withheld. “Maybe I am.”

“Okay, but you have to promise to be super careful, okay? We’ll stick together as much as possible, but once we find Beck, I’m going to find a safe place for you and go fight him _alone,_ alright?”

“Alright,” she agreed.

“And let me talk to Fury alone once we get there. He might not be too thrilled to find out how much you saw, how much you know.”

“Of course,” she said.

He nodded, somewhat satisfied. “Let’s get going.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've got about 25k words written thus far, no idea how long it's going to be total, maybe 30k? Ish? Stay tuned, updates every Tuesday!


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